Part 17

When he beyond us had so fled mine eyes No nearer reach’d him, than my thought his words, The branches of another fruit, thick hung, And blooming fresh, appear’d. E’en as our steps Turn’d thither, not far off it rose to view. Beneath it were a multitude, that rais’d Their hands, and shouted forth I know not What Unto the boughs; like greedy and fond brats, That beg, and answer none obtain from him, Of whom they beg; but more to draw them on, He at arm’s length the object of their wish Above them holds aloft, and hides it not.

At length, as undeceiv’d they went their way: And we approach the tree, who vows and tears Sue to in vain, the mighty tree. “Pass on, And come not near. Stands higher up the wood, Whereof Eve tasted, and from it was ta’en ‘this plant.” Such sounds from midst the thickets came. Whence I, with either bard, close to the side That rose, pass’d forth beyond. “Remember,” next We heard, “those noblest creatures of the clouds, How they their twofold bosoms overgorg’d Oppos’d in fight to Theseus: call to mind The Hebrews, how effeminate they stoop’d To ease their thirst; whence Gideon’s ranks were thinn’d, As he to Midian march’d adown the hills.”

Thus near one border coasting, still we heard The sins of gluttony, with woe erewhile Reguerdon’d. Then along the lonely path, Once more at large, full thousand paces on We travel’d, each contemplative and mute.

“Why pensive journey thus ye three alone?” Thus suddenly a voice exclaim’d: whereat I shook, as doth a scar’d and paltry beast; Then rais’d my head to look from whence it came.

Was ne’er, in furnace, glass, or metal seen So bright and glowing red, as was the shape I now beheld. “If ye desire to mount,” He cried, “here must ye turn. This way he goes, Who goes in quest of peace.” His countenance Had dazzled me; and to my guides I fac’d Backward, like one who walks, as sound directs.

As when, to harbinger the dawn, springs up On freshen’d wing the air of May, and breathes Of fragrance, all impregn’d with herb and flowers, E’en such a wind I felt upon my front Blow gently, and the moving of a wing Perceiv’d, that moving shed ambrosial smell; And then a voice: “Blessed are they, whom grace Doth so illume, that appetite in them Exhaleth no inordinate desire, Still hung’ring as the rule of temperance wills.”

## CANTO XXV

It was an hour, when he who climbs, had need To walk uncrippled: for the sun had now To Taurus the meridian circle left, And to the Scorpion left the night. As one That makes no pause, but presses on his road, Whate’er betide him, if some urgent need Impel: so enter’d we upon our way, One before other; for, but singly, none That steep and narrow scale admits to climb.

E’en as the young stork lifteth up his wing Through wish to fly, yet ventures not to quit The nest, and drops it; so in me desire Of questioning my guide arose, and fell, Arriving even to the act, that marks A man prepar’d for speech. Him all our haste Restrain’d not, but thus spake the sire belov’d: “Fear not to speed the shaft, that on thy lip Stands trembling for its flight.” Encourag’d thus I straight began: “How there can leanness come, Where is no want of nourishment to feed?”

“If thou,” he answer’d, “hadst remember’d thee, How Meleager with the wasting brand Wasted alike, by equal fires consum’d, This would not trouble thee: and hadst thou thought, How in the mirror your reflected form With mimic motion vibrates, what now seems Hard, had appear’d no harder than the pulp Of summer fruit mature. But that thy will In certainty may find its full repose, Lo Statius here! on him I call, and pray That he would now be healer of thy wound.”

“If in thy presence I unfold to him The secrets of heaven’s vengeance, let me plead Thine own injunction, to exculpate me.” So Statius answer’d, and forthwith began: “Attend my words, O son, and in thy mind Receive them: so shall they be light to clear The doubt thou offer’st. Blood, concocted well, Which by the thirsty veins is ne’er imbib’d, And rests as food superfluous, to be ta’en From the replenish’d table, in the heart Derives effectual virtue, that informs The several human limbs, as being that, Which passes through the veins itself to make them. Yet more concocted it descends, where shame Forbids to mention: and from thence distils In natural vessel on another’s blood. Then each unite together, one dispos’d T’ endure, to act the other, through meet frame Of its recipient mould: that being reach’d, It ’gins to work, coagulating first; Then vivifies what its own substance caus’d To bear. With animation now indued, The active virtue (differing from a plant No further, than that this is on the way And at its limit that) continues yet To operate, that now it moves, and feels, As sea sponge clinging to the rock: and there Assumes th’ organic powers its seed convey’d. ‘This is the period, son! at which the virtue, That from the generating heart proceeds, Is pliant and expansive; for each limb Is in the heart by forgeful nature plann’d. How babe of animal becomes, remains For thy consid’ring. At this point, more wise, Than thou hast err’d, making the soul disjoin’d From passive intellect, because he saw No organ for the latter’s use assign’d.

“Open thy bosom to the truth that comes. Know soon as in the embryo, to the brain, Articulation is complete, then turns The primal Mover with a smile of joy On such great work of nature, and imbreathes New spirit replete with virtue, that what here

## Active it finds, to its own substance draws,

And forms an individual soul, that lives, And feels, and bends reflective on itself. And that thou less mayst marvel at the word, Mark the sun’s heat, how that to wine doth change, Mix’d with the moisture filter’d through the vine.

“When Lachesis hath spun the thread, the soul Takes with her both the human and divine, Memory, intelligence, and will, in act Far keener than before, the other powers Inactive all and mute. No pause allow’d, In wond’rous sort self-moving, to one strand Of those, where the departed roam, she falls, Here learns her destin’d path. Soon as the place Receives her, round the plastic virtue beams, Distinct as in the living limbs before: And as the air, when saturate with showers, The casual beam refracting, decks itself With many a hue; so here the ambient air Weareth that form, which influence of the soul Imprints on it; and like the flame, that where The fire moves, thither follows, so henceforth The new form on the spirit follows still: Hence hath it semblance, and is shadow call’d, With each sense even to the sight endued: Hence speech is ours, hence laughter, tears, and sighs Which thou mayst oft have witness’d on the mount Th’ obedient shadow fails not to present Whatever varying passion moves within us. And this the cause of what thou marvel’st at.”

Now the last flexure of our way we reach’d, And to the right hand turning, other care Awaits us. Here the rocky precipice Hurls forth redundant flames, and from the rim A blast upblown, with forcible rebuff Driveth them back, sequester’d from its bound.

Behoov’d us, one by one, along the side, That border’d on the void, to pass; and I Fear’d on one hand the fire, on th’ other fear’d Headlong to fall: when thus th’ instructor warn’d: “Strict rein must in this place direct the eyes. A little swerving and the way is lost.”

Then from the bosom of the burning mass, “O God of mercy!” heard I sung; and felt No less desire to turn. And when I saw Spirits along the flame proceeding, I Between their footsteps and mine own was fain To share by turns my view. At the hymn’s close They shouted loud, “I do not know a man;” Then in low voice again took up the strain, Which once more ended, “To the wood,” they cried, “Ran Dian, and drave forth Callisto, stung With Cytherea’s poison:” then return’d Unto their song; then marry a pair extoll’d, Who liv’d in virtue chastely, and the bands Of wedded love. Nor from that task, I ween, Surcease they; whilesoe’er the scorching fire Enclasps them. Of such skill appliance needs To medicine the wound, that healeth last.

## CANTO XXVI

While singly thus along the rim we walk’d, Oft the good master warn’d me: “Look thou well. Avail it that I caution thee.” The sun Now all the western clime irradiate chang’d From azure tinct to white; and, as I pass’d, My passing shadow made the umber’d flame Burn ruddier. At so strange a sight I mark’d That many a spirit marvel’d on his way.

This bred occasion first to speak of me, “He seems,” said they, “no insubstantial frame:” Then to obtain what certainty they might, Stretch’d towards me, careful not to overpass The burning pale. “O thou, who followest The others, haply not more slow than they, But mov’d by rev’rence, answer me, who burn In thirst and fire: nor I alone, but these All for thine answer do more thirst, than doth Indian or Aethiop for the cooling stream. Tell us, how is it that thou mak’st thyself A wall against the sun, as thou not yet Into th’ inextricable toils of death Hadst enter’d?” Thus spake one, and I had straight Declar’d me, if attention had not turn’d To new appearance. Meeting these, there came, Midway the burning path, a crowd, on whom Earnestly gazing, from each part I view The shadows all press forward, sev’rally Each snatch a hasty kiss, and then away. E’en so the emmets, ’mid their dusky troops, Peer closely one at other, to spy out Their mutual road perchance, and how they thrive.

That friendly greeting parted, ere dispatch Of the first onward step, from either tribe Loud clamour rises: those, who newly come, Shout “Sodom and Gomorrah!” these, “The cow Pasiphae enter’d, that the beast she woo’d Might rush unto her luxury.” Then as cranes, That part towards the Riphaean mountains fly, Part towards the Lybic sands, these to avoid The ice, and those the sun; so hasteth off One crowd, advances th’ other; and resume Their first song weeping, and their several shout.

Again drew near my side the very same, Who had erewhile besought me, and their looks Mark’d eagerness to listen. I, who twice Their will had noted, spake: “O spirits secure, Whene’er the time may be, of peaceful end! My limbs, nor crude, nor in mature old age, Have I left yonder: here they bear me, fed With blood, and sinew-strung. That I no more May live in blindness, hence I tend aloft. There is a dame on high, who wind for us This grace, by which my mortal through your realm I bear. But may your utmost wish soon meet Such full fruition, that the orb of heaven, Fullest of love, and of most ample space, Receive you, as ye tell (upon my page Henceforth to stand recorded) who ye are, And what this multitude, that at your backs Have past behind us.” As one, mountain-bred, Rugged and clownish, if some city’s walls He chance to enter, round him stares agape, Confounded and struck dumb; e’en such appear’d Each spirit. But when rid of that amaze, (Not long the inmate of a noble heart) He, who before had question’d, thus resum’d: “O blessed, who, for death preparing, tak’st Experience of our limits, in thy bark! Their crime, who not with us proceed, was that, For which, as he did triumph, Caesar heard The snout of ‘queen,’ to taunt him. Hence their cry Of ‘Sodom,’ as they parted, to rebuke Themselves, and aid the burning by their shame. Our sinning was Hermaphrodite: but we, Because the law of human kind we broke, Following like beasts our vile concupiscence, Hence parting from them, to our own disgrace Record the name of her, by whom the beast In bestial tire was acted. Now our deeds Thou know’st, and how we sinn’d. If thou by name Wouldst haply know us, time permits not now To tell so much, nor can I. Of myself Learn what thou wishest. Guinicelli I, Who having truly sorrow’d ere my last, Already cleanse me.” With such pious joy, As the two sons upon their mother gaz’d From sad Lycurgus rescu’d, such my joy (Save that I more represt it) when I heard From his own lips the name of him pronounc’d, Who was a father to me, and to those My betters, who have ever us’d the sweet And pleasant rhymes of love. So nought I heard Nor spake, but long time thoughtfully I went, Gazing on him; and, only for the fire, Approach’d not nearer. When my eyes were fed By looking on him, with such solemn pledge, As forces credence, I devoted me Unto his service wholly. In reply He thus bespake me: “What from thee I hear Is grav’d so deeply on my mind, the waves Of Lethe shall not wash it off, nor make A whit less lively. But as now thy oath Has seal’d the truth, declare what cause impels That love, which both thy looks and speech bewray.”

“Those dulcet lays,” I answer’d, “which, as long As of our tongue the beauty does not fade, Shall make us love the very ink that trac’d them.”

“Brother!” he cried, and pointed at a shade Before him, “there is one, whose mother speech Doth owe to him a fairer ornament. He in love ditties and the tales of prose Without a rival stands, and lets the fools Talk on, who think the songster of Limoges O’ertops him. Rumour and the popular voice They look to more than truth, and so confirm Opinion, ere by art or reason taught. Thus many of the elder time cried up Guittone, giving him the prize, till truth By strength of numbers vanquish’d. If thou own So ample privilege, as to have gain’d Free entrance to the cloister, whereof Christ Is Abbot of the college, say to him One paternoster for me, far as needs For dwellers in this world, where power to sin No longer tempts us.” Haply to make way For one, that follow’d next, when that was said, He vanish’d through the fire, as through the wave A fish, that glances diving to the deep.

I, to the spirit he had shown me, drew A little onward, and besought his name, For which my heart, I said, kept gracious room. He frankly thus began: “Thy courtesy So wins on me, I have nor power nor will To hide me. I am Arnault; and with songs, Sorely lamenting for my folly past, Thorough this ford of fire I wade, and see The day, I hope for, smiling in my view. I pray ye by the worth that guides ye up Unto the summit of the scale, in time Remember ye my suff’rings.” With such words He disappear’d in the refining flame.

## CANTO XXVII

Now was the sun so station’d, as when first His early radiance quivers on the heights, Where stream’d his Maker’s blood, while Libra hangs Above Hesperian Ebro, and new fires Meridian flash on Ganges’ yellow tide.

So day was sinking, when the’ angel of God Appear’d before us. Joy was in his mien. Forth of the flame he stood upon the brink, And with a voice, whose lively clearness far Surpass’d our human, “Blessed are the pure In heart,” he Sang: then near him as we came, “Go ye not further, holy spirits!” he cried, “Ere the fire pierce you: enter in; and list Attentive to the song ye hear from thence.”

I, when I heard his saying, was as one Laid in the grave. My hands together clasp’d, And upward stretching, on the fire I look’d, And busy fancy conjur’d up the forms Erewhile beheld alive consum’d in flames.

Th’ escorting spirits turn’d with gentle looks Toward me, and the Mantuan spake: “My son, Here torment thou mayst feel, but canst not death. Remember thee, remember thee, if I Safe e’en on Geryon brought thee: now I come More near to God, wilt thou not trust me now? Of this be sure: though in its womb that flame A thousand years contain’d thee, from thy head No hair should perish. If thou doubt my truth, Approach, and with thy hands thy vesture’s hem Stretch forth, and for thyself confirm belief. Lay now all fear, O lay all fear aside. Turn hither, and come onward undismay’d.” I still, though conscience urg’d’ no step advanc’d.

When still he saw me fix’d and obstinate, Somewhat disturb’d he cried: “Mark now, my son, From Beatrice thou art by this wall Divided.” As at Thisbe’s name the eye Of Pyramus was open’d (when life ebb’d Fast from his veins), and took one parting glance, While vermeil dyed the mulberry; thus I turn’d To my sage guide, relenting, when I heard The name, that springs forever in my breast.

He shook his forehead; and, “How long,” he said, “Linger we now?” then smil’d, as one would smile Upon a child, that eyes the fruit and yields. Into the fire before me then he walk’d; And Statius, who erewhile no little space Had parted us, he pray’d to come behind.

I would have cast me into molten glass To cool me, when I enter’d; so intense Rag’d the conflagrant mass. The sire belov’d, To comfort me, as he proceeded, still Of Beatrice talk’d. “Her eyes,” saith he, “E’en now I seem to view.” From the other side A voice, that sang, did guide us, and the voice Following, with heedful ear, we issued forth, There where the path led upward. “Come,” we heard, “Come, blessed of my Father.” Such the sounds, That hail’d us from within a light, which shone So radiant, I could not endure the view. “The sun,” it added, “hastes: and evening comes. Delay not: ere the western sky is hung With blackness, strive ye for the pass.” Our way Upright within the rock arose, and fac’d Such part of heav’n, that from before my steps The beams were shrouded of the sinking sun.

Nor many stairs were overpass, when now By fading of the shadow we perceiv’d The sun behind us couch’d: and ere one face Of darkness o’er its measureless expanse Involv’d th’ horizon, and the night her lot Held individual, each of us had made A stair his pallet: not that will, but power, Had fail’d us, by the nature of that mount Forbidden further travel. As the goats, That late have skipp’d and wanton’d rapidly Upon the craggy cliffs, ere they had ta’en Their supper on the herb, now silent lie And ruminate beneath the umbrage brown, While noonday rages; and the goatherd leans Upon his staff, and leaning watches them: And as the swain, that lodges out all night In quiet by his flock, lest beast of prey Disperse them; even so all three abode, I as a goat and as the shepherds they, Close pent on either side by shelving rock.

A little glimpse of sky was seen above; Yet by that little I beheld the stars In magnitude and rustle shining forth With more than wonted glory. As I lay, Gazing on them, and in that fit of musing, Sleep overcame me, sleep, that bringeth oft Tidings of future hap. About the hour, As I believe, when Venus from the east First lighten’d on the mountain, she whose orb Seems always glowing with the fire of love, A lady young and beautiful, I dream’d, Was passing o’er a lea; and, as she came, Methought I saw her ever and anon Bending to cull the flowers; and thus she sang: “Know ye, whoever of my name would ask, That I am Leah: for my brow to weave A garland, these fair hands unwearied ply. To please me at the crystal mirror, here I deck me. But my sister Rachel, she Before her glass abides the livelong day, Her radiant eyes beholding, charm’d no less, Than I with this delightful task. Her joy In contemplation, as in labour mine.”

And now as glimm’ring dawn appear’d, that breaks More welcome to the pilgrim still, as he Sojourns less distant on his homeward way, Darkness from all sides fled, and with it fled My slumber; whence I rose and saw my guide Already risen. “That delicious fruit, Which through so many a branch the zealous care Of mortals roams in quest of, shall this day Appease thy hunger.” Such the words I heard From Virgil’s lip; and never greeting heard So pleasant as the sounds. Within me straight Desire so grew upon desire to mount, Thenceforward at each step I felt the wings Increasing for my flight. When we had run O’er all the ladder to its topmost round, As there we stood, on me the Mantuan fix’d His eyes, and thus he spake: “Both fires, my son, The temporal and eternal, thou hast seen, And art arriv’d, where of itself my ken No further reaches. I with skill and art Thus far have drawn thee. Now thy pleasure take For guide. Thou hast o’ercome the steeper way, O’ercome the straighter. Lo! the sun, that darts His beam upon thy forehead! lo! the herb, The arboreta and flowers, which of itself This land pours forth profuse! Till those bright eyes With gladness come, which, weeping, made me haste To succour thee, thou mayst or seat thee down, Or wander where thou wilt. Expect no more Sanction of warning voice or sign from me, Free of thy own arbitrement to choose, Discreet, judicious. To distrust thy sense Were henceforth error. I invest thee then With crown and mitre, sovereign o’er thyself.”

## CANTO XXVIII

Through that celestial forest, whose thick shade With lively greenness the new-springing day Attemper’d, eager now to roam, and search Its limits round, forthwith I left the bank, Along the champain leisurely my way Pursuing, o’er the ground, that on all sides Delicious odour breath’d. A pleasant air, That intermitted never, never veer’d, Smote on my temples, gently, as a wind Of softest influence: at which the sprays, Obedient all, lean’d trembling to that part Where first the holy mountain casts his shade, Yet were not so disorder’d, but that still Upon their top the feather’d quiristers Applied their wonted art, and with full joy Welcom’d those hours of prime, and warbled shrill Amid the leaves, that to their jocund lays inept tenor; even as from branch to branch, Along the piney forests on the shore Of Chiassi, rolls the gath’ring melody, When Eolus hath from his cavern loos’d The dripping south. Already had my steps, Though slow, so far into that ancient wood Transported me, I could not ken the place Where I had enter’d, when behold! my path Was bounded by a rill, which to the left With little rippling waters bent the grass, That issued from its brink. On earth no wave How clean soe’er, that would not seem to have Some mixture in itself, compar’d with this, Transpicuous, clear; yet darkly on it roll’d, Darkly beneath perpetual gloom, which ne’er Admits or sun or moon light there to shine.